Camden by Shey Stahl
There’s not much that can shock me anymore. Grow up around the Sawyer brothers and you’ll totally understand how that’s possible.
But still, some things do.
Like today. As I sit in front of three guys who not only saved me, but taught me everything I know about racing and life.
What shocks me? This statement here:
“We want you to finish out the season on the Mayhem Tour with S3,” Roan says. He’s never been one to spew bullshit, but I’m certainly not expecting him to say this.
“What?” I blink rapidly, my heart skipping in my chest.
Do you notice the surprised look on my face? You should, because I never expected to hear these words come out of his mouth. Never thought I’d be good enough to hear them.
“Don’t be a bitch.” Leaned back in his chair, more than likely bored, Tiller pins me with the menacing dark eyes. “You heard him.”
I did hear him, but why? Why would they want me? I DNF’d in the Deranged X show last night and busted up my ribs the night before in Glen Helen. Truth is, my performance has been shit lately. In fact, last time I looked I’d fallen to fifth in the points in the SoCal series.
Now the Sawyer brothers want me running the Mayhem Tour for them? Am I dreaming?
“Seriously?” I ask, thinking they’re joking. They can’t possibly be serious? Or can they?
Do you notice the way my heart jumps up in my throat? I suppose you don’t, because you’re not inside my body; but let me tell you, it does, and it’s not a good feeling. In fact, it reminds me of being scared, fearing the unknown, and I hate that. I spent my childhood stuffing that feeling down and convincing myself if you don’t give anxiety power, it can’t cripple you.
But then again, I’ve never known any of them to joke much, especially Roan. He’s the brains behind many of their business ventures. He’s the one who teamed up with Lane Riley, and together they’d built a shock brand known all over the world that dominates motorsports.
“We’re serious,” Shade finally adds, smiling at me.
“As a heart attack.” Tiller sighs. “Which I might have if she doesn’t put some goddamn clothes on.” Grunting his annoyance, he stands up from the table and walks outside, leaving me alone with Roan and Shade. “Riv, what the fuck?”
It’s obvious who Tiller’s talking about, but I refuse to look her way. I can’t think about her at the moment. I can’t because she’s dictated every decision I’ve made the last three years and I don’t want this to be another.
I shouldn’t think of her.
“Think about it, Cam,” Roan says, knowing I’m stunned. “You don’t have to give us an answer now.”
“Yes, he does if I’m going to get his contract done in time,” Ophelia barks at her husband, walking by the table, following Ariah—their youngest daughter who is hauling ass toward the french doors with her swimsuit on. “You can’t just change shit on me last minute. These kinds of things take time and legal documents.”
Roan laughs her off, his arm circling around Ophelia’s waist as she leans into him. He remains sitting in the chair, his eyes on mine, as if he’s giving me the chance to back out and him not take it personally. Would he though? If I said no, I bet he would.
“You can think about it for tonight, but I need an answer tomorrow morning,” Ophelia adds.
I nod, making eye contact with her. It’s the only thing my dad ever taught me that was worth something. Make eye contact with the ones you respect.
Ophelia smiles tenderly at me. Though she’s much younger than Roan, she’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. Business savvy like her husband, she’s someone Roan never saw coming until it was too late. They met when she was ten, or so the story goes, and she loved him soon after. You could say—though I’d argue with you—I’m following in his footsteps—careerwise and with relationships—but I refuse to admit it out loud, let alone say it.
Anyways, they’re married now, have two girls and successfully run a business together. In fact, against the odds, all of the Sawyer brothers have in one way or another settled down with their families. What used to be constant parties and wild drug use is now mellow for the most part, and the “Wives,” as Willa calls them, run the show most days. So, while they offer me the position on their team, it’s the Wives I’ll be dealing with on a daily basis.
Mind you, none of this lessens the fact that they offered me a chance of a lifetime, and I’m not sure I can take it. I’m not so sure I want that kind of pressure. I put enough on myself.
To most, the Sawyer brothers are the unstoppable force that dominates much of the freestyle, motocross and enduro circuits. Between the three of them, they’ve won every event around the world at least once, run an apparel company, a race team, a track… the list is endless.
To me, they’re family.
I can still recall the first time I walked into the Sawyer mansion. And though the three lunatic brothers that occupied that home now live on the land joining this massive estate, it’s still the Sawyer mansion and where everyone gathers. I think in some ways, them having their own homes now is a way to escape what being behind the doors of this mansion meant. Parties. Drugs. Insanity.
To be in their presence alone signifies greatness. They fucking bleed it and I grew up in the midst of it. My history in their lives, while it’s fucked by now, I know when it started. The day I climbed the fence and met the Sawyer brothers. It was a Saturday, blue sky and a drought so bad they were ticketing people if they watered their lawn. I was ten years old and heard dirt bikes revving next door. I’d been curious about the wild parties behind our house. Despite my dad’s orders to stay far away from that house, I hopped the back fence, scurried across the motocross track and ran face first into the Wild Cat. Hailed as the original badass of the freestyle world, I read everything I could about him, but none of that prepared me for what he was like when the helmet was off.
The Sawyer brothers are badass. World champions, unpredictable, adrenaline-driven and completely unstable in every way. Tiller, he’s the poster boy for the word unstable.
Tiller removed his helmet, slid from his bike and stood tall in front of me. I smiled, but inside I was terrified he’d tell me to go home. Or kill me. But mostly, I didn’t want to be told to leave.
“You ride?” he asked, running a tatted-up hand through his black hair, slicked back with sweat.
With the California sun beating down on my neck, I tried to appear cool and nodded. What else was I going to do? This guy scared the shit out of me, but I was dying to know them. Finally, I answered with, “Yeah. All the time.” I hadn’t ridden a dirt bike though. My dad wouldn’t let me, claiming they were death machines and no respectable man would let their son ride one. Irony is, I wouldn’t go as far to say Jerad Rivera is respectable either. A narcissist, yes, but respectable? Nope. So, I lied to Tiller, and it wouldn’t be the last time.
Tiller knew my lie before it left my lips and smiled, one side higher than the other. “How old are ya?”
“Almost eleven,” I blurted out, knowing my birthday wasn’t for eleven months, but it sounded better than saying ten.
“Also known as ten,” Tiller grumbled, twirling his goggles around in his hand. “Where do you live? How’d you get over here?”
I pointed toward my house. “That’s my place just on the other side of the face. I jumped it to get here.”
“What’s your name?”
Staring back up to him, I blink away the sweat starting to drip down my face and into my eyes. “Camden”
He eyed my dad’s house in the distance as sweat beaded at my temples. “Your pops know ya over here?”
I panicked, looked over my shoulder and then lied. “Yeah, he doesn’t care.”
“Sure, he doesn’t.” It was said sarcastically, but from that day on, the Sawyer brothers treated me as if I was one of them and my life was never the same.
That was the beginning, and it’s been a crazy fucked up ride I thought I had a handle on, until the unexpected happened.
The day River James Sawyer showed up in my life. I had just turned eleven, she was three going on four. I didn’t know the whole story when she showed up, but her parents died, her aunt gained custody of her and Tiller is her biological father.
From the day she came to the mansion, she basically wormed herself into my heart before I could do anything to stop it. There’s six years, eight months and three days separating us, but you wouldn’t have known it when the friendship formed. I was her protector. The guy she came to when boys were giving her trouble at the track. The one she vented to when nobody in the sport wanted to take her seriously. And the one she fell in love with despite the age difference.
River, she’s my ride or die. Always there for me when I need someone in my life that isn’t expecting me to be everything I’m not. She’s the one who understands what it’s like being sucked into the world of freestyle competition and what it does to you.
Do you see that girl with the sly smile and wild purple curls? Not Scarlet. She’s part of this story, but not where it went wrong. Sure, Scarlet’s an instigator and if Tiller ever knew half the shit she tried to convince me of, he’d kill her. But, this part. The real fuck up. The knots in my stomach and that steady thump in my chest I can’t control, that’s on me. I did that on my own. Dealing with self-inflicted shit is something I’m incredibly good at and learned from the two brothers now staring back at me, waiting on an answer.
Back to that girl, she’s seventeen going on thirty and watching me nervously in the distance while trying to act all nonchalant about it.
She wants me to say yes.
She wants me in her life. Hell, she pretty much has demanded it.
She. Wants. Me.
I remind myself of that, and even though River’s untouchable—Tiller’s daughter—someone I swore I wouldn’t cross a line with, I’ve been tempted a time or two.
Can I do this with her so close?
Wait. You know, I’m probably confusing you. Welcome to my world. I don’t understand half of what’s happening most days, and believe it or not, I don’t do drugs. Never touch them. When I was eleven, I did a line of cocaine because I watched Tiller do it and wanted to be invincible just like him.
Ended up with a really fucked-up night of freaking out, puking and a good ass kicking from Tiller when he found out. From that point on, drugs were a no with me.
I learned that not only was I not invincible, but just how stupid I was. And the fact that I can’t even be in the same room as River and not think of her, confirms nothing has changed. I’m still not invincible and I’m still pretty fucking stupid.
Drawing in a deep breath, I glance at the rebel with purple hair who commands any room she’s in with her restless wild ways. The one who could set fire to anything in her way and rise from the ashes. The one arguing with her dad about her bikini and refusing to change.
Nobody tells her what to do. Including the Wild Cat. And especially me.
My eyes drift back to Shade and Roan, both waiting on my words. “Can I think about it?”
They exchange a look, another with Ophelia, and she nods. “Yeah. Of course. Like I said, I just need to know by tomorrow morning.”
My contract with Yamaha is up at the end of this season. Technically I have to complete my obligations with the Pro Motocross series, but I can race freestyle with S3 given the two don’t conflict.
My eyes drift back to the direction I don’t want. Where River is now arguing with her dad about her bikini. He’s never going to get her to put on clothes, but he tries regardless.
River, she’s nothing you can control and the spitting image of her father.
Do you see that guy sitting at the table with his head in his hands? The one who knows the decision he’s about to make dictates not only his life, but many here at this mansion.
He’s riddled with anxiety most days despite the many championships he’s won in his twenty-four years, and yet still, he’s unsure. A trait he doesn’t want to possess, but does and has no idea how to navigate it. He’s spent his entire life never being good enough for his father and lost his mother before he could say goodbye to her. Though he’s praised for his accomplishments and “good boy” persona, he’s nobody’s role model.
He’s moments away of grabbing too much throttle and greasing the landing.
